Silent Tango
by Insane Vampire Maru
Summary: What was once a simple getaway for him soon turns into a fierce competition and a confusion, heated romance. SasuNaru. Yaoi.


He found himself here once more. Shrouded under dark luminescent lights of reds, purples and blues. Surrounded by equally shrouded people, murmuring in closed discussions amongst themselves. The room was small, almost to a suffocating point, and draped in mystery, considering that the lights didn't do much to chase away the darkness of the small space. He, himself, hated the atmosphere of such a place. Everyone kept to themselves. Unless you were there with someone, there was no reason to speak to anyone else. Of course, this wasn't a place for such social affairs. No, this was a place for a much different social affair. Dancing. But, this wasn't just a normal, in-crowd dance club. It didn't even attract that large of a crowd, and it wasn't filled with pulsing metal rythmes that could deafen from a few yards radius. No, this place beat with a slow, personal rythm. It ran through you as soon as you entered, until the beat seemed to match that of your heart's. The music thrummed through your being at it's own, slow pace, drawing you in, creating a passion, a desire in you not unlike the craving of your most intimate wants. It didn't matter what kind of person you were, or what sort of things you were into. Once you heard this music, you were hooked.

The name of the club was Silent Tango. This wasn't an official name. The club actually did not have a sign out front, or advertisement in any sort of newspaper or phonebook. The place was infamous, meaning that news about it spread by word of mouth, not advertisements or commercials. The name Silent Tango was something that regulars to the club had seemed to have decided on. It fit the club perfectly. Aside from the sound of music, the club did remain silent very frequently. A few people spoke silently with one another now and then, but other than that, they simply looked on at the dancers or took part in the dance themselves. What was this dance? The tango, of course. A closely knit dance that forced you into intimacy with whomever you were dancing with. There was no room for shyness of touch, or lack of confidence. Once you stood with your partner, there was no turning away. The music pushed you into motion and you had no choice but to obey the will of rythm.

Tonight, he was back again. He'd started coming a few years back, having heard about it from a friend, and he'd never been able to get it out of his system since. He came almost every weekend. He felt the need for the music, for the small quiet crowds that he hated so much, and most of all, he constantly craved the closeness and intimate presence of a partner. That closeness of another's body in motion against his, it was an addiction unlike any drug. He never had a specific partner. He had no need for anyone specific. As long as they knew how to dance, they were perfect. As soon as he was swept into the dance, he'd lose himself. He'd lose the crowd around him and the eerie quiet. He'd find passion, belonging, a body against his, gripping him firmly, moving smoothly against his. He never put a face to that body when he got lost. There was no need for familiarity. All he needed was the contact.

The music suddenly cut off, leaving the club in a silence so absolute that you could practically hear the people breath around you. Seconds later, the music was back on. A fresh start. This meant that everyone was switching partners. This also meant that it was his chance to get in on the action. He pushed through the observing crowd of people who either did not feel like dancing or had had enough for the moment and stepped out onto a black marble platform, littered with a few bodies. They were all decidedly male, but then again, what would you expect from a gay dance club? Now, he had never thought himself gay, or at least he'd never thought lustily about another male before, but he found that he couldn't dance at a straight tango club. He enjoyed being the woman in this dance. He didn't think himself as gay for this and found nothing wrong with it. He didn't bother trying to look for a partner. He was a bright guy, bubbly and cheerful, his smile catching the attention of many men on the dance floor. Before he knew it, he was swept into the arms of the closest man to him, pressed against a strong, sturdy body, in the familiar hold of the tango. Instantly, he was driven into the dance. He closed his eyes and let himself slip away. He had nothing to worry about, the other man was leading him, and he knew the dance like the own beat of his heart by now. The music ran through him, driving any other thoughts he had. All he heard was the music. All he felt was the intimate reach of his partner, the fluid movement of both of their bodies and the passionate rythm all around him. He was lost.

A spectator in the darkness, he came to these places to find peace mostly. To observe amateurs of the art. He wasn't there to recruit and he wasn't there to partake in the dance. Though he had lost his own dancing partner a few months ago, he wasn't worried. Plenty of men were eager enough to dance with him. He didn't exactly find them worthy enough to dance with him, but it was something he would deal with, when it came time for competition. Unless he could find a capable partner, someone he could click with, someone he could move with comfortably, he'd just have to go and half-ass it with a random partner. Besides, he was good enough to make himself and his partner look good, despite how bad the other dancer might turn out to be. It would be a pain in the ass to do, but he'd do it. He'd been at this place practically all night. It was dark and quiet, something he liked about it. No one tried to turn to you and ask you for your number or to get you a drink. It was unspoken rule here that one shouldn't engage another in conversation, unless of course, you knew one another.

He was just about ready to up and leave, when a certain someone caught his gaze. The man seemed like nothing more than a young, bright-eyed teenager, at a glance. But he watched, as this man stepped out onto the dance floor, exuding a happy, cheerful aura, his smile one of childish play. You didn't see people like that everyday on a tango dance floor. The tango was one of sophistication and class. This man looked clumbsy and good natured. He didn't fit in at all amongst all of the other dancers. In fact, he stood out greatly. But, he looked onward, and soon found the cheerful man to be nothing like the naive youngster that he seemed to be at first. As soon as he was swept into another man's arms, the bright man's demeanor changed entirely. His body took on the position of the female dancer in a tango, and his expression, though still smiling, was now heated and intense. But only for a second. As he was forced into movement, his eyes closed, hiding that small fire in his eyes as he sank fluidly into the moves of the dance. His body contoured perfectly to his partner and his steps were precise, and confident. The cheery and slightly uncertain man from a few seconds ago, now seemed completely sure of himself.

His interest was immediately sparked. Whoever this man was, he carried himself like a newbie to the dance, but when he actually got moving, it was a sight that he found himself drawn to, like a moth to a flame. He walked up to the edge of the dance floor, standing amongst the crowd now as he watched this little angel sent from Heaven. This man had the dance down, as though his life depended on it. He put passion into every step. Admittedly, there was some work needed. With his movements and his posture, but other than that, this man was a miracle. Just what he had needed.

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Yeah, I know I have another story I need to update and everything, but this idea suddenly came to me...while watching a cartoon of all things, and I just had to get it down. Enjoy and all that good stuff 


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